


What You Don't Name

by EmeraldSage



Series: Witchling (Happy Halloween) [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: And because it’s a little random, Gen, Halloween, Happy halloween, I scare myself, I'm bad at Scary, M/M, Not my best, Nothing too scary, Only a hint of RusAme at the End, Promise, Slightly spooky, a little bit of political frustration did go into this piece, but I hope you like it!, so read if you will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 16:45:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12586248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldSage/pseuds/EmeraldSage
Summary: They say all the magic is in Europe; all the creatures that go bump in the night and watch you as you drive past farms and forests stay far from America's shores.Then what's that feeling at the back of your neck when you're wandering through a cornfield at night?  Or waltzing past the forest, while the moon is high?There's a reason that the things we fear here don't have names.For Halloween 2017





	What You Don't Name

**Author's Note:**

> Literally ONE HINT OF RUSAME - if that's the reason you're reading this story, I'm sorry, there's not going to be much of it :(
> 
> On a separate note, I'm sorry it's not too spooky. I think it ended too fast, but I wanted it to be out by Halloween, so here it is!!! I've been working on it for ages, but I haven't gotten the ending down pat, so it's a little upsetting. Otherwise, I hope you'll enjoy it! And have a spooky Halloween ^^!

            The nations are visiting America for the meeting, which, for circumstances beyond their awareness, is being held in Houston, Texas. They’re staying in a hotel out in a new development in Sugarland – not too far from the city proper – as the conference had to be moved due to Hurricane damage. They’d been lucky to find a proper place, and Alfred had greeted the staff cheerfully enough that they were satisfied with the circumstances, and so the meeting proceeded. And, at first, everything seemed fine.

            They didn’t realize it at first, but that’s when America starts acting strange.

            He’s not different at first, of course. That’s how they didn’t notice until it was nearly too late. He’s just a little bit quieter, a little more subdued, and, well really, the only person who noticed was his brother. And Canada, used to his brother’s quirks, dismissed it as a response to seeing his people hurt by the hurricane damage on the way in.

            Two days into the weeklong conference and that changed.

            During the bright hours of noon, America was unchanged; cheery and bright-eyed as he worked with the rest of them, soaking in the liquid rays of warmth as the day went along. But as dusk approached, America would grow quiet. Any time his eyes caught on the darkening sky, he would falter. More than one nation had started carrying out a one-sided conversation with the superpower for several minutes before they realized that something had snatched the young nation’s attention away and held it captive from all attempts to retrieve it. It had gotten to the point where anyone who noticed would drag the curtains out, or tried to pull America away from the windows where he would linger – and not entirely of his own volition, some noticed uneasily.

            And to say nothing of how the blond nation would get as darkness fell! He’d go completely quiet unless someone addressed him. And even then, his eyes were distant and hazed – like the blue of a fading, cloud-struck twilight – as the meetings went on.

            It wasn’t just him, either, much to the nations’ collective alarm. The hotel managers and staff grew more and more tense as the evening broke. When they started to take notice, oddities began to add up. The managers would change several times during the day, but only once between dusk and dawn. And even then, both managers would arrive at the start of the night shift, and would switch off and on duty, occupying the room reserved for the staff as the night wore on. Not one of the staff would leave once the clock struck 11pm and the witching hour began its approach, not until dawn broke and the darkness fled. The staff also, very pointedly, didn’t speak of it. At all.

            Most of the hotel guests picked up on it, though. Very few, if any, would leave the hotel after dark, and even fewer would return while the moon was high. Some would stay amongst the brightly lit restaurant strip in front of the hotel before making their way back. And – once they’d noticed this odd pattern – the nations began to unconsciously mimic them. Which led them to another discovery that disturbed them more than it should.

            The doors always locked at midnight.

            There were some poor souls who would buzz at the front door after midnight, who would be coolly informed by the management staff that they needed to use their room key cards to release the locks for the hotel. The fewer still, who had forgotten their cards, were often buzzed in by friends or family who’d stayed with them and came down when they’d called. And then, mildly more reassured, the managers would let them in, scrutinizing them suspiciously nonetheless as they walked past. Despite the hassle of this unvoiced curfew, no one seemed to take it negatively.

            Everyone outside the nations themselves seemed to reflect America’s nervous anxiety, and it bothered them something _fierce_ that they couldn’t understand what was going on.

            It was with this confusion and frustration that plagued them that day – five days into the meeting – when they realized that America had gone totally silent from where he’d been standing at the podium, eyes gazing through the open window at the conference hall, and straight out into the dusk lit woods.

            There was the usual collective huff of frustration, but as England stood to yank the blinds down, a shiver went around through all the nations. It felt like the hairs on the back of their necks were standing up, and they glanced around at each other, alarmed. But they were holding themselves together admirably.

            At least, they _were_ … until England startled as he glanced out the window, and threw himself backwards with an almighty screech. The nations jumped, and the few near the window peered out to catch a glimpse at what had startled the hardy nation. But even though they saw nothing, a vicious shiver traced down their spines and a wicked sense of foreboding overcame them.

            For even as the curtains fell closed, none of them could mistake the feeling of being watched for anything else.

* * *

           England flinched as the sensation overcame them all, but he pushed it back with the ruthless, indomitable will that he’d developed through his relentless interactions with the fae. The strength of his magi and the force of his land pushed back the aura imposing itself on all present and he regained himself. The only reason he’d lost his composure in the first place, he thought to himself with a grimace, was because deep in the heart of his child’s land had been the last place he thought he’d find evidence of the supernatural.

            Oh he’d certainly expected that the lad had some creatures of his own – every land did, after all – but to see one, to realize how vulnerable the younger nation was…well.

            He’d regained his composure faster than anyone else, he thought, glancing around the room. There was that, at least. Even Russia was still eyeing the open window with an expression he’d rather never be on the other end of, fingering the pipe he’d pulled from nowhere with a type of furor that England would call nervous anxiousness had it been anyone else.

            He glanced around once more, and this time, verdant eyes caught on a dazed America, who was blinking back into the present.

            _Wonderful_. Now maybe he could get some answers.

* * *

           “What was that?” Arthur demanded, after he’d settled the younger nation in his room and drawn all the curtains. Arthur’s room faced the shopping center and the highway, and wasn’t too bad overall. But it was leagues better than when he’d paid a visit to Alfred’s room only to see the forest from the opened window and the taunting, invading sense that someone was watching him…. He shivered and shook it off; no wonder Alfred had been so _off_ during the meetings. He’d grabbed a handful of clothes, magically sealed the window, and bolted back to his own room where the dazed young nation was just coming to.

            Alfred blinked up at him, the porcelain cup of Arthur’s specially made tea held gingerly in his hands as the drink worked its miracles. Arthur settled a gentle hand on his shoulder and sat down on the soft comforter besides him. “Alfred,” he repeated quietly, but firmly, and finally, he was rewarded.

            “We don’t give it a name,” the teenage nation said hoarsely, after a few moments of contemplation. He glanced down at the tea – which was glowing faintly from the magic Arthur had imbued in it – before glancing up at his former colonizer, “To give it a name would give it more power. It would only become more dangerous.”

            “Dangerous?” he inquired, “How dangerous?”

            Alfred eyed him warily for a split second before he looked back down at his glowing tea, “There’s a reason we don’t speak of it,” he reminded the former Empire, but there was something stilted in his voice.

            Arthur’s brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. Alfred, still studying his tea as it swirled in its mug, didn’t notice.

            “ _Alfred_ ,” he said, deliberately emphasizing his voice and saw the teenager wince, “You call it dangerous and you don’t want us to get involved? What are you not telling us?”

            “It’s nothing,” Alfred tried to reassure anxiously, largely unsuccessful, “really Arthur, - ” oh, so he was Arthur again, was he now, “ – it’s nothing huge. And besides, it’s almost over. The full moon is tomorrow night, so it should be safe by sunrise the day after!”

            Arthur’s eyes narrowed even further, and Alfred felt the odd sense of foreboding that always came with the rise in his former colonizer’s temper, “You’ve _dealt_ with this before, you’re not at all surprised,” which he’d half expected Alfred to be. “This is _normal_?” he demanded, thinking on how all of Alfred’s people had adopted an odd sort of routine: their growing paranoia – that didn’t seem much like paranoia now that he was aware of something wrong – and almost spooky behavior suddenly spoke for a lot.

            Alfred grimaced, “Not usually,” he admitted, “it’s possible this time of year, but with the hurricane stirring things up and all the death and fear in the air…it became all but expected.”

            Arthur’s glare was not giving him any leeway at all, “Then why on earth did you move the meeting here?!”

            “I didn’t, okay,” the teen snapped, “I had to be in the area for the hurricane relief, and my boss’s aide moved the conference on accident because _he_ ,” Arthur winced at the disdain coating the word, he was sure he’d never heard that much scorn in Alfred’s voice regarding his own people since the 1800s, “thought the conference was unimportant.”

            A moment of silence passed before Arthur broke it, “He doesn’t know about us, does he?”

            Alfred snorted, but there was a terribly _tired_ expression on his face that made something within Arthur ache; that expression shouldn’t exist on someone so young.

            The expression slid from his face, and Alfred sighed, “No,” he admitted, “but he’s hardly the first of my bosses who’ve taken power without knowing who I am.”

            Arthur winced sympathetically. He’d had a few of those too, though Alfred had a surprising number for how young he was. He knew Andrew Jackson had been one – the genocide of his First peoples was a crime Alfred had never been able to forgive – a few he couldn’t really name before he and the younger had partially reconciled after the lad’s Civil War, Truman, who hadn’t known until he’d been elected in his second term, and Ford – though Carter he’d been oddly fond of – and now…he sighed. Too many, he thought, but he was distracting himself.

            “I won’t say anything,” he said quietly, and didn’t smile when Alfred sighed in relief, “but you _must_ tell them all about this _thing_ you won’t name – they all on the verge of a mass panic.” And a group of nations on the verge of panic was the last thing they wanted to happen to the poor paranoid hotel residents.

            Well, that was certainly true enough.

            “But finish that goddamned tea first!” the elder barked when he saw the teen ready to set down the magically enhanced concoction, and he really didn’t trust the other to not zone out if he hadn’t some level of magical protection.

            Alfred huffed, but sat back down and sipped at the tea. It really was quite good, he’d have to get some for his stash later (not that England knew about that stash…nope).

            If Arthur thought it was strange that Alfred took an inordinate amount of time studying his tea, he said nothing about it...though he’d certainly _noticed_ it, if the smirk on his lips said anything.

* * *

           Telling the nations about the _thing_ ended up being a lot easier than America had thought it would’ve been. And certainly, they took it a lot better than England thought they would. They’d conceded to the previously unspoken curfew with a grudging grace, though they’d all understood. Most nations had some form of supernatural beings plaguing their land, so they’d understood the necessity of the imposition America had suggested. Though they did speculate on why it had affected America so much…an answer not even England had gotten out of the young nation.

            But America had been right. The full moon had come swiftly the next night and they’d spent the night sheltering out in front half of the hotel, with no views of the woods, and their own various protective charms at hand. Alfred had spent the night camped out in Arthur’s room, which had been fully spelled and decked out in order to prevent the younger nation from wandering off to the _thing’s_ siren call. He had, in fact, had to wrestle the younger nation from a near unbreakable daze several times, before knocking the teen out and magically sealing the room. The hotel staff had followed a similar idea, and locked and barred the doors. Even with a siren call and a heavy daze draping over most of the people there, no one dared leave.

            Sun up had a number of nations cheering, before falling into the abyss of sleep they’d warily denied themselves the night before. The whole hotel seemed to relax. The meeting had been, as a result, cancelled.

            There had only been one incident the night of. It had been the one time Alfred had managed to escape Arthur’s room in his daze, nearly knocking out the elder nation, but had been quickly snatched up and redirected by Ivan. Russia had surprised the frantic former Empire when he dropped an unconscious America back into his room – surprised at both the Russian’s resistance to the _thing’s_ daze, but also at his quick response – and after the nation had left, he’d wondered, somewhat suspiciously, at how Russia had known to be close enough to catch Alfred when he’d run.

            But then again, that was a mystery for another night. And judging by the chaos of this meeting, he’d had more than enough to hold off until next October.

            Who knew what the next Halloween would bring them, after all.


End file.
